


Patchwork

by enkidurga



Category: Kamen Rider - All Media Types, Kamen Rider Saber
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Post-Battle care, accidental love confession, i didn't proofread this i'll fix it later okay it's 1:30 in the morning, vague vague descriptions of scrapes and cuts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27345064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkidurga/pseuds/enkidurga
Summary: Tetsuo won't let anyone take care of him after a battle and would rather retreat to his room to tend to his wounds alone.Touma is an exception to the rule.
Relationships: Daishinji Tetsuo/Kamiyama Touma, Kamiyama Touma/Daishinji Tetsuo
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	Patchwork

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Momonoji](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momonoji/gifts).



> I have to admit, this idea was put into my brain and I had to make it real. 
> 
> Please enjoy it!!

Throwing open the doors to the Northern Base, it was obvious that the Kamen Riders had had a hard battle against the Megid today. Not only were the monsters getting stronger, but Calibur and his generals were only becoming tougher opponents as they began to solidify and strategize around the combat tactics the Sword of Logos used.

Ryo was the first to slump in a chair, using his buster sword to support himself until he met the seat before propping it against the table. Like clockwork, Kento was by his side with a first aid kit, insisting to help patch his senpai up as the elder waved it off.

“Don’t worry, kid.” The earth swordsman laughed before pointing at Kento, “A few bumps and bruises build character, but you have a nasty gash. Sit down, we’re fixing that up.”

“I’m in your care.” Was all Kento could reply with quietly. It was true, the younger did have a small, but deep looking cut stretched across the apple of his cheek. He could obviously feel it, and simply obeyed. With Ryo’s stubbornness, it was better to accept the help than to refuse and argue.

Rintaro had looked pretty worse for wear too, but seemed pretty self-sufficient and organized with cleaning out his scrapes and cuts before bandaging them neatly. 

As for Ren, he seemed to show no sign that he was actually in a battle aside from the dirt smudged across his face. Instead, he gave everyone a wave, including a worried Sophia perched atop the balcony, and skipped merrily into a backroom to do some training.

Tetsuo, who had only started joining them in battle recently as Kamen Rider Slash, was quick to brush past everyone and disappear into another backroom. A telltale slam of a door showed that he had sealed himself away somewhere, but while most of the other swordsmen seemed to ignore it, Touma had honed in on this.

“Where did he go?” the novelist muses aloud, his own first aid kit in hand. “He seemed hurt.”

“Daishinji prefers to tend to his wounds by himself so not to trouble the rest of us.” Rintaro answers the question politely, knowing instantly who Touma was wondering about.

“And don’t bother trying to check on him.” Ryo grunts, a frown crossing his features as he grips Kento’s chin to keep him still as he prods at his wound with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. “I’ve tried plenty and he’s snapped at me every time.”

“Same with me,” Kento speaks up, turning his head to look at Touma, but Ryo’s quick to snap him back to face forwards so he can work and that causes the lightning swordsman to mouth out a very obvious ‘ow”. 

None of this sits right with Touma. A moment of contemplation, and he’s ignoring their warnings to leave Tetsuo alone, retreating into the back where the shier man had gone.

“… Well, don’t say we didn’t warn you.” Ryo sighs, not that he’s terribly concerned.

In the corridor it’s dimly lit and lined for a ways with various doors. Any other time, Touma would question what was behind each and everyone, but for now he needed to check up on Tetsuo. With his kit in hand, he paced down the hall until he came across a door with a bit of light bleeding out from underneath. Maybe this was it?

Touma gives the door a gentle knock.

No one answers, but the sound of something like the legs of a chair scraping against a tile floor are audible. 

“Daishinji, it’s me.” Touma calls against the wood. “Is it alright if I come in?”

There is a shuffling heard from the other side of the door, then a click. The door doesn’t open, but when Touma reaches to turn the knob, it gives. 

When he opens it, inside is Tetsuo, back on his stool with a largely depleted and old looking medical kit in front of him. His hair is a mess and some of his clothing singed, but he doesn’t turn to acknowledge Touma. He doesn’t say anything.

“Just checking to see if you’re okay.” Touma says as he paces around to get a look at the sound swordsman. Per usual, eye contact is brief, but Touma can see there is a good scrape across his nose and another on his chin. “Come on, let me help.”

Contrary to what everyone had said, Tetsuo remains quiet the whole time and Touma can almost swear he thinks the other is turning a lightly worrying shade of red. It clearly wasn’t anger as he lifts Tetsuo’s chin and begins to clean the wounds. 

“Did they get you anywhere else?” Touma asks quietly, setting the used cotton he disinfected with to the side and peeling open a bandaid.

“Nothing I hadn’t gotten to yet.” Tetsuo replies just as softly, eyes drifting down to some cuts along Touma’s leg. Dried blood had seeped into the torn fabric of his pants, but fortunately the wounds weren’t deep. Like a flip of a switch, the timidity dissolved, “Touma! You need to take care of that!”

“Don’t worry…” the novelist starts to reassure, but he finds himself hissing softly as the unexpected feel of alcohol sinks into his cuts. Tetsuo had already started to take care of him.

“Too late, I’m going to worry. You need to take care of yourself first!”

***~*~*~*~***

And it was like that that the two started to mutually take care of each other after their battles. Each time they would return, Tetsuo would immediately retreat to his room, and each time Touma would follow.

The flame swordsman was unbelievably oblivious. He was always allowed back into the other’s room and never met any kind of resistance until it came to his own wounds. Never once did he question why he was special enough to or why Tetsuo seemed to turn the prettiest of pinks when he was being checked over for injuries.

Touma even brushed off the scoldings he received as Tetsuo began to patch him up. It was always about his level of self-sacrifice. It seemed like no matter what bothered the novelist, he would always set it aside to take care of Tetsuo, and that never sat right with the sound swordsman.

So it shouldn’t have been unexpected that when the two came back from a battle one day, Touma already having stumbled in after the other, that Tetsuo would grab him by the wrist and tug up his sleeve. 

Soaked fabric was hard to pull up, but on Touma’s arm was a cut, long and deep that bled heavily. Likely from one of Calibur’s sword strikes. Tetsuo’s fingers didn’t ease their tight hold as he reached for his medical supplies.

“It’s fine-“ Touma started to say, he was already eyeing some gashes and bruises on Tetsuo’s face that needed to be tended too, but he was caught off from trying to prove his case.

“No, you’re not!” the usually shy mechanic practically growls out, his voice low, but sharp and wrought with evident worry, “This is your sword arm, you can’t just leave this unchecked, and I’m not letting you. _I love you far too much to keep letting you ignore yourself like this._ ”

Tetsuo doesn’t seem to recognize what he said, too frustrated and busy taking care of the gash and applying medical glue and pressure to try and close it up. It was said low enough, one could only assume this thought wasn’t even meant to actually leave his brain. 

So instead Touma is left to blink at the comment, letting the other work on him in peace until he’s properly and tightly bandaged. He’s being left to stew with this thought for too long actually as he feels himself heating up exponentially, an obvious blush was likely on his face.

“Daishinji…” he mumbles, unable to properly express his confusion and embarrassment. It’s still computing that someone so shy would so offhandedly confess something like this and just _not_ realize it.

But it captures the other’s attention, as he looks up, having been busy rolling up Touma’s other sleeve to check for additional damage. The novelist reaches with a hand to cup a cheek and quietly pull himself closer, reading the sudden obvious panic of Tetsuo’s face, but finding comfort that he isn’t pulling away. 

It feels right when Touma, eyes squeezed shut, brushes their lips together. Soft, gentle, he waits for Tetsuo to push himself back, but it never happens. Warmth instead bubbles and blooms inside him at the contact so that when he pulls back, he can’t help feeling momentarily empty as he searches for a response in Tetsuo’s eyes. 

Surprisingly, neither can look away from each other as the event settles in. 

“Touma…?” it sounds feeble when Tetsuo says it, running a hand up along his face roughly and then pinching a cheek to see if he was dreaming. 

“You really didn’t realize it? I was wondering what made me so special.” Touma laughs and shakes his head. “Everyone said you would push them away, but you let me in and take care of you. I just couldn’t figure it out.” 

The darkest, most vivid crimson rushes across Tetsuo’s face as something clicks, as if he suddenly is realizing what he said and he can’t help but slap both hands over his face in embarrassment. Touma simply smiles and takes one of those hands into his own, moving them away. 

“It’s alright! I was surprised to hear you say something like that, but I agree with it because I feel that way too.” Touma reassures, “Well, the loving part. I can try to work on the taking care of myself part.” 

“You have to.” Tetsuo says, albeit muffled as he reangles the hand still on his face to cover his mouth. “Promise it.” 

“Of course, I promise!” the novelist laughs, pulling the other hand from the mechanic’s face with a warm smile. “But I don’t want to see you hurt either, you shouldn’t have to take care of yourself alone.” 

With a nod, Tetsuo leans in to nudge their noses together, eyes slipping shut. An invitation Touma happily obliges as they come together in another kiss, relief washing over him as he feels the shier reciprocate with a lot more confidence than the first one. 

Slender hands shift to hold Touma’s and squeeze comfortingly as one kiss melts into another, a series of tender presses that are slowly working themselves deeper and messier. The novelist can’t help himself, releasing one of the hands to cup Tetsuo’s cheek and brush his thumb over the soft skin. 

Or at least it would have been soft, but Tetsuo tenses up as Touma makes contact with the scrape that was still too delicate. They pull away, an obvious apology written all over the flame swordsman’s face before he scurries for something to clean him up with. 

“Sorry, I didn’t… we can continue this later, but let’s finish getting you patched up!” Touma fumbles over his words, not catching Tetsuo’s eager grin. 

It would be silly to suggest, but he can't help wanting to be kissed better. 

**Author's Note:**

> In shambles to discover no Super Hero Time this week so no Slash debut. 
> 
> Writing this puts me less in shambles.


End file.
